Cormorants flying overhead refocussed my attention and I began the climb up the steep slope to the next level of the cliff.

I didn’t get far before stopping to watch the Whitethroat I had been heading for pre-Chough. He was singing from an old bramble stem close by and was nicely visible apart from being seemingly garotted by a twiggy branch. Song done, he flew across the track into the base of a huge bramble shortly followed in by his mate coming from the other direction, carrying food in her beak. So this is where they are nesting, no doubt tucked low down in the protective thorny thicket.

About half-way up I welcomed the excuse to pause, granted by the sight of another Swollen-thighed Beetle, this time a male sporting a splendid pair of said swollen thighs.

At the top is a reminder that the slope’s purpose was not originally as a walking track. Here stand the remains of supports and cogs for winding gear, once employed to steady trucks full of quarried stone on tracks down the steep slope, then to haul back empty ones.

This quarry face accommodates many nesting pairs of Jackdaws, whose cries often echo loudly around the bare stone cliffs. They were quiet today, the only sound made by a sheep bleating from the edge of the wall towering above. Clearly a mother, she may have been calling for her young one; I hoped he hadn’t been hauled off to market to end up as Welsh Spring Lamb in a butcher’s shop.

I took a very quick look at nesting Fulmars, didn’t want to disturb them so stayed well back.

Attractive birds with an elegant stiff-winged flight, it’s hard to believe they produce such a loud, rather harsh cry and that their tube-like nostrils are designed to allow them, inelegantly, to snort out salty water.

From up here you can look down on the flat quarried-out ‘Level 1’ of the site, with the cove of Angel Bay at its edge. The dry grassed areas are already showing signs of wear and tear.

Onwards and upwards, following the track that is both on the routes of the North Wales Coastal Path and the national Wales Coast Path. It is heavily eroded in parts, and bridged by gnarled old roots, (or branches?) of gorse.

Ravens had made me aware of their presence since arriving here today, being more mobile and noisier than usual and as I ambled along this part of the track an outburst of their calls broke out from somewhere ahead of me. I had just seen birds harrassing what I assumed to be a Buzzard and thought that may have escalated into a bit more of an incident. Getting closer I saw three birds having a bit of a to-do; two of them seemed to be attacking a third that was sitting atop a fence. Not a Buzzard.

I was still too far away to see properly, but this may have been a pair of Raven upset with an intruding one. Does it have something in its beak in the first picture, an egg maybe? I have no idea but they took off from here and continued to express their annoyance from the field below for some time.

None the wiser as to what I’d witnessed I carried on, scanning the track ahead of me, as I am wont to do at this time of year, checking for sheep poo; you never know when there may be something interesting dining out thereon. I got lucky, a fairly fresh deposit yielded a little male Yellow Dung-fly. In an awkward spot to photograph, I had no option than to kneel down in front of the dung, then almost had my nose in it to get him in close up without using the lens zoom, quietly hoping no-one came along the path to witness my odd behaviour. It was worth it; I realised he hadn’t flown off as he was otherwise occupied with a lady Dung-fly. Females are far fewer in number than males, so there was no chance he was leaving, whatever I was doing.

Yellow Dung-fly pair mating

Same image but bigger

THE CORMORANT COLONY

Reputedly the largest Cormorant breeding colony in the British Isles, this is an impressive sight, even from this distance and this is only a part of it; it continues around to the other side of the rocky outcrop in the photograph below, where there are even more of them.

I’ve shown this aspect of the Cormorant colony several times before, but this is the first time I’ve visited it at the right time to catch the birds on their nests. I was thrilled to get a glimpse of young birds in some of the nests; Cormorants usually lay 2-3 eggs, and from those I could see most seem to have hatched and grown successfully, so there must be plenty of food available locally to keep offspring and parents well fed.

Some of the young birds seemed a bit more advanced than others and were already out of the nest exercising their wings, but many birds were still sitting.

The bulk of the colony is not as easy to see, and viewing the birds involves a bit of rambling up and down the uneven cliff top, then peering down from cliff edge, but it is well worth the effort. The photograph below shows the colony to be situated well out of reach of nosy people.

Around the rock I was now upwind of the birds, so as well as amazing sights and sounds I was greeted with the equally amazing smell produced by a large number of fish-eating birds confined to a relatively small space. I wish I could share it with you!

But pungent aromas aside,the colony on this side holds another treat; right in its centre is another smaller colony – of smart little penguin-like Guillemots. Surrounded by the much bigger Cormorants I imagine it is a safe haven for them from potential predators such as gulls and the Cormorants seem perfectly accepting of them.

Cormorants and Guillemots sharing fishing space on the rocks below. There were many more birds of both species flying back and forth and hunting and diving in the water too. Cormorants stay separate but Guillemots often join together in ‘rafts’ floating on the surface of the sea.

These two birds, who I fancied were enjoying some fresher air away from the colony, is my favourite Cormorant image from the day. The birds weren’t making a sound; they gape their beaks as a means of cooling down their bodies, but it seems like they’re commenting on something out at sea. Possibly the ever-encroaching turbines of the wind farm, or maybe they were sureying for likely fishing spots.

It was a sunny day with some cloud and really strongly windy, particularly noticeable up here at the top of the headland on its sea-facing edge, but the elements’ combined effects on the water was breathtaking. I sat for some time watching the ever-changing patterns of light and shade on the surface of the blue sea as the wind rippled across its surface and clouds cast shadows above it. It really was the colour of the photograph below and quite mesmerising.

View from the Little Orme across Llandudno Bay to the Great Orme

Birds flew past the cliff at eye level; mostly Herring Gulls, but one Greater Black-backed gull too, and a Raven gronked a greeting as he passed by; all strong birds gliding effortlessly on the wind and thermals created by the cliff face. A Rock pipit popped up over the edge briefly but popped down again when he spotted me. A Jackdaw also appeared over a ridge, but disregarded me completely and carried on foraging within touching distance, even posing for a portrait.

THE CLIFFTOP

Returning to the main track I passed a ewe and her lambs who had found a shady and sheltered place to rest with her lambs.

I watched a 7-spot ladybird scrambling through the mossy turf. Grazed by sheep and rabbits, baked by the sun and exposed regularly to strong, salt-laden winds anything that survives here has to be tough, especially the flora. Amongst the toughest of our native flora are the thistles, the two most common species of which thrive here.

The Creeping thistle has already begun flowering and even up here was being visited by bumblebees and a wind-blown Red Admiral butterfly.

The other is the fierce-looking Spear thistle with its aptly-named long sharp spikes protecting its every part, which has flower buds almost on the point of opening now.

On the ledge beneath an overhanging rocky outcrop I was surprised to spot a clump of white-flowered plants. Getting closer I saw they were Sea campion and also Moon (Ox-eye) daisies with one of the best specimens of Salad burnet I’ve seen anywhere so far this Spring. I wonder how they got there?

Sea campion – Silene maritima

Going back down I took a photograph to remind me to say that although fading fast there is still gorse in flower and also hawthorn, but the main blossom plant now is the creamy white elder.

And another to remind myself that I can never tired of looking at this view across Penrhyn and Colwyn Bays, even when on hot days like this one much of the distance is lost in a haze.

We had one day of decent weather last week and I grabbed the opportunity to walk up to and around ‘the Bryn‘. I hadn’t been there for ages and I knew if I didn’t get there soon I would miss the Early Purple Orchids and Cowslips that grace this special place at this time of the year. It was sunny but a north wind kept the ambient air temperature cool to outright chilly in the open, but in more sheltered spots it was pleasant and almost felt spring-like. The open grassy meadow area in front of the car park was just such a spot today and there were actually butterflies to watch, all whites, definitely some small and some green-veined whites, but as there was also a solitary male orange-tip making territorial laps at speed, it is possible there were females of that species too, they don’t have the distinctive orange wing tips so are harder to identify in flight.

Bunches of ‘keys’ are already forming on this tree and the leaves are well grown

I hoped the Orange Tip would stop long enough to have his picture taken, so whilst waiting for him to come back to this part of his circuit, which he did several times, I wandered along the field edge to see what progress the plants were making. There are many Ash trees in the woodland of this site and it is interesting to note the difference in the rate of growth of new foliage on trees which can vary significantly, even on trees that are quite close together. I am paying more attention to Ash trees now, knowing that they are under threat from the killer fungus chalara fraxinea, appreciating their beauty while I still have the chance while dreading that they may be stricken with it.

The vegetation along the field edge is already tall, with much on the point of flowering, although there was little of interest to waylay the speeding Orange Tip. He was almost tempted by what I think was a white flowered Valerian, settling on it for a few seconds only before spotting a Small White in his airspace and rocketing after it. I felt sure he’d stop to rest or feed eventually, watching and waiting for quite a while hoping for a photo opportunity, but he was clearly on duty and intent on seeing off all interlopers. I hadn’t realised how territorial and feisty this species was until now. I got tired way before he did, but thought it worth looking for some Lady’s Smock flowers, a foodplant of the species’ larva and one of the few flowers the adults do sometimes pause to take nectar from. I did find some, but only a couple of stems of flowers and no sign of the butterfly anywhere near.

Lady’s Smock, Cuckoo Flower-Cardamine pratensis

As I bent down to get an image of the flower I caught a glimpse of a bird passing me by very closely and stood up to see a lovely Long-tailed Tit at just about my eye-level (not very high then), perched on a dried stem about 2 metres or less in front of me and with its beak full of small flies.

A Long-tailed Tit with her beak full of small flies

To be honest, the encounter took me so much by surprise that it took a moment for it to register that it was indeed Long-tailed Tit, let alone for it to occur to me that the poor bird was agitated by my presence because the flies were intended to be fed her nestlings. I stood still and she flitted over to the cover of a nearby small tree, then after a moment or two began to make her way to the back of the wire fence, then through a tangle of brambles to the most beautiful nest. I was thrilled to see it as I’d never seen one closely before; they are usually deeper into a tangle of brambles, so at the same time I felt concern at the location of this one; it seemed very vulnerable and if I spotted it fairly easily then so could potential predators. Long-tailed tit nests are known to suffer high rates of predation with only 17% of them being successful.

The Long-tailed Tit at the nest

Long-tailed Tits make magical nests from materials you could almost imagine being called for in a spell; spider egg cocoons and moss, lichen and feathers, some 6,000 tiny pieces required for the average construction. The moss and spider silk provide the structural stability, they are pieced together to form a mesh with the tiny leaves of the moss acting as hooks and the spider silk of the egg cocoons providing the loops, which has been described as working in a similar way to velcro. The outside of the nest is covered with hundreds of flakes of pale green-grey lichens to provide camouflage and the inside lined with around 2,000 downy feathers to insulate the nest. The end result is a lightweight elastic sac with a small, round entrance placed at the top, which is suspended either low in a gorse or bramble bush, less than 3m off the ground, or occasionally high up in the forks of tree branches.

Despite its apparent fragility the nest is strong due to the spider silk and the elasticity of the structure allows it to expand as the nestlings grow, so is always the perfect size. This nest was fairly bulging, so I imagine the young ones were quite well grown and that there were several of them in there.

A close view of the exquisite nest and young ones peeking out

I stood rooted to the spot watching as both parent birds hunted for food for their young ones. they were not travelling far, one was mainly foraging in the lower branches of a tree within a few metres of one side of the nest and the other in another tree a similar distance away to the other side. That same one, which is the one I photographed also seemed to be flying up from the fence pursuing flies on the wing.

A Long-tailed Tit with a beak full of small flies waiting a short distance from the nest

I would have loves to have stayed and watched for longer, but although the birds carried on about their work despite me, they were clearly wary and I left them in peace to carry on while I continued with my walk.

Hungry Long-tailed Tit nestlings looking quite well-grown

This link is to a wonderful video of a Long-tailed Tit nest and narrative from Iolo Williams’ Secret Life of Birds.

Every spring I watch various species of bird select oddments of dried grass, leaves, feathers and a variety of other bits and bobs and am awed that they are going to put them all together and fashion them into a perfect home for their future family. How on earth do they know how, when and where to begin? I mean, I am pretty dexterous with my hands and can put together items by sewing, knitting, crocheting etc., but I wasn’t born knowing how to do that; I’ve had to learn how to do things and then practice to perfect the techniques over years. And I have two hands, eight fingers and two opposable thumbs to work with. A bird has one beak. Furthermore the whole process is often completed within the space of a few days, and each and every nest perfectly conforms to the design that is unique to the species of its builder, with no instruction needed. Amazing.

I still recall the thrill of finding birds’ nests when I was young and exploring the hedgerows and woods around our home, but didn’t really think much about how the nest had been put together then, being more curious about which bird had built it and how many beautiful eggs were in it. Now I take a much keener interest in the nest-building process and in the structures themselves and love to take advantage of opportunities to have a closer look at the structures of those I have found.

The first two photographs below were taken in Spain and are of a nest blown out of position during the winter following its successful use. It was built by Blackbirds in the fork of a yucca tree just a couple of metres from the kitchen window and in which three young ones were successfully raised.

A blackbird’s nest blown from a tree branch

Blackbirds build classic archetypal cup-shaped nests utilising the natural materials available to them. Partially concealed from my view I couldn’t see exactly how the work was done on this one, but I did watch both the male and the female of the pair carry in materials, long strips of dry palm leaves, twigs and leaves to begin with, which made up a substantial base. Once that was in place the bird would have built up layers of finer materials, working each strand into place, working around herself, turning and weaving each one into place to build up the sides of the cup. The turning action keeps the inside of the cup smooth and well compacted, then when it is completed she will strengthen it further with mud.

You can see that the layers of grass become progressively finer from the outside inwards. The bottom of the nest looks rough and messy, but the bulk of material provided a substantial base, filling out the space in the fork of the tree. It is also thought that birds may deliberately leave the outsides of their nests untidy as a method of camouflage, hoping a prospective predator may mistake it for a pile of debris.

The bottom of the nest

Chaffinches also build a cup-shaped nest and once again I had excellent views of a beautiful nest built on a branch of a cork oak tree that overhung the garden wall and was on a level with and very close to a first floor bathroom window. Honeysuckle had climbed up into the tree providing extra cover, but the most impressive camouflage was in the use of the blue-green lichen on the outside of the nest. Taking pictures was quite challenging, I was in the bath beneath the window, trying to get a view first through the vertical window bars, then through the branches and foliage.

The beautifully crafted nest of a pair of chaffinch. The occupant was the last of 3 chicks to fledge and was reluctant to leave its cosy home.

We found the goldfinch nest on the ground beneath pine trees around a picnic area of the Sierra de Nieves Natural Park, near Ronda, Andalucia, whilst out walking there. We knew it belonged to a goldfinch as, sadly, we also found a couple of partially-feathered dead nestlings close by too. Maybe it had been blown out of the tree, but it is also possible a jay may have raided it, there are plenty of them thereabouts. It was such a delicate but cosy little nest too.

A goldfinch nest, cosily lined but dislodged from a tree

I love wrens and had the privilege of their close company during much of the time I lived in Spain, they seem much more ‘confiding’ there for some reason and are often happy to use the facilities people provide for their own use as nest sites. In our case a terracotta light fitting, fixed in a covered area between the kitchen and garage doors was used for two successive years with the male using it as a roosting place when vacated by his family.

An adult wren at the entrance to the nest in the light fitting

Male wrens are the nest builders and will construct a number of basic nests in several locations which he then shows off to prospective mates. ‘Our’ little chap began work on the light fitting nest early in a February, carrying in leaves and dried grass, then used it as a night-time roost for himself until April. I thought he’d left then , but one morning he reappeared and set about making some improvements, working hard over a period of days carrying in leaves and dried grass, until the space looked stuffed to capacity. Shortly afterwards he performed quite a spectacular and noisy display on a roof beam close by, clearly to impress a female. She subsequently appeared, inspected the nest, approved it and set about making the place more comfortable by lining it with moss she pulled out from our lawn. I helped her out a bit by pulling out more moss and putting it on the leaves of a large house plant below the site. My contributions were accepted happily and carried up to the nest, much to my delight. Some days later, a sneaky peek with the telescopic lens of a pocket camera revealed 4 eggs nestled amongst moss and feathers plucked from her own body.

the inside of the nest lined with moss and feathers

In more natural situations the wren’s nest is quite an elaborate, dome shaped construction, often placed against a wall or as in the one below, against a rock face and amongst vegetation (photographed in Gibraltar).

The elaborate domed nest of a tiny Wren built amongst vegetation on a rocky cliff in woodland

Another wren’s nest I found on the ground when out walking around the area local to our home in Spain had been constructed using a lot of leaves and moss, dried grasses and lengths of paper material. I would have loved to see the little bird carrying that and working it in. The photograph is of the back of the nest which is flat from having been built against a wall.

A wren’s nest using lengths of paper material on the outside

Blue Tits are naturally cavity-nesting birds, but they liked our light fittings too and several years we had a family in a particular one, again very close to the house, but this time under the covered front terrace. Their nest was a much lighter affair than the wren’s, perhaps partly because its position got a lot more sun, but it was still cosy inside, lined with fine grass, moss, feathers and quite amusingly, some of the long dark hairs from our Yorkshire Terrier (we used to brush him and clip his hair outside). I couldn’t see into the nest without the aid of my little camera’s telescopic lens, so couldn’t believe my lucky timing for this shot, taken as soon as I spotted the female exit for a few minutes. The three hatchlings were very recent and you can see fine cracks in two of the remaining eggs.

Inside the blue tit’s nest in a light fitting-Sotogrande, Spain

The next nest was built by a pair of Serin, tiny finches that are common in Spain. They built it high up in a very tall cypress fir tree and they too successfully raised a family in it. I found it on the ground beneath the tree long after they had left it and was amazed at how light and flimsy-looking it was, constructed mainly from fine grass and spent flower tassels dropped from neighbouring cork oak trees. At first I wasn’t sure who had built the nest as they and a pair of Short-toed Treecreepers were nesting at the same time in trees next to each other, but then I spotted the white feather in the lining and remembered spotting and photographing the female Serin with it in her beak, months before.

The nest of a pair of tiny Serin blown down from a tree, Sotogrande, Spain

I’ve put in a couple of pictures of Serin here, to show what I’m talking about and because I like them a lot (the birds that is).

These young Serin in a cork oak tree may well be from ‘my nest’ family

A male Serin held in a ringer’s hand shows how tiny they are

The final picture for this post is a British Robin’s nest, built in the wood pile of my friend’s house in Nevern, Pembrokeshire. It was not very far off the ground as you can see, but was so well camouflaged we walked past it for a couple of days before noticing it.